


Salt Water

by not_poignant



Series: Fae Tales - AUs, Oneshots and More [7]
Category: Fae Tales - not_poignant, Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms, Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Dysfunctional Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, Id Fic, Incest, M/M, Magical Healing Cock, Nonhuman, Rape Aftermath, Tropes, and it can't all entirely be explained by the fact that they're fae, brothers not doing brotherly things, no really this is an Id Fic of epic tropey ridiculous proportions, other authors might apologise for this, really questionable caretaking, that's not lubricant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-16
Updated: 2013-11-16
Packaged: 2018-01-01 16:56:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1046268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/not_poignant/pseuds/not_poignant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Augus Each Uisge is a solitary waterhorse who works as a professional dominant to make his way through life, but when another predatory fae with the same vocation, but less respect, hears of his reputation and feels personally slighted, Augus finds himself in an untenable situation in his own home.</p><p>Please read the tags. And the notes. And the warnings. EVERYTHING basically.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Salt Water

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so Augus Each Uisge and Ash Glashtyn are two original characters in other series of mine. And even though this is an AU from those series (for my regular readers - this AU, not set in the SALverse at all! Both Augus and Ash are far younger here, and both underfae), it still assumes some basic knowledge in the readers. However, for those new to these guys, here's what you need to know: 
> 
> The Each Uisge and Glashtyn are Unseelie fae in a world of many fae species, where Unseelie fae aren't necessarily evil and Seelie fae aren't necessarily glowing beacons of brightness. They are brother waterhorses that have a humanform and a waterhorse form. Augus Each Uisge works as a professional dominant in the fae world, offering his services to the Court and Inner Court fae of the Unseelie kingdom. Ash Glashtyn spends most of his time in the human world. 
> 
> The story is split perspective (first half is Augus perspective, second half is Ash perspective).
> 
> *
> 
> This chapter stands alone as a oneshot, but can easily be expanded into a series.
> 
> *
> 
> Yeah, sorry not sorry about this. I know this is tropey as hell, I know it has magical healing cock, it's basically an Id Fic of epic proportions and please keep that in mind while reading this. I mean, if you want realistic sexual assault recovery fics I have *waves hand at* 600,000 thousand words worth of them in the rest of my AO3 account. Sometimes I just like going down the completely irrational wildside, because it's indulgent and fun. Feel free to join me, if that's your thing.

Augus tried not to wrinkle his nose at the acrid saltwater scent that filled his foyer as the fae entered. It was incredibly strong, and he almost turned the fae around right then and there. Saltwater fae rarely visited him and he preferred it that way. For the most part, saltwater and freshwater fae avoided each other. Salt was painful; he could handle the small amount produced within his body necessary for survival, but what humans and other fae produced was just below the limit of what he could tolerate. Saltwater fae...forget it.

But the fae was handsome enough; tall, angular, with pale, translucent blue hair that fell in waves around a face that looked spoiled, a slack mouth and hooded eyes. He had a look of aristocratic breeding about him, carried it in his bearing, in the way he looked around Augus’ home, as though it was – despite being tasteful – beneath him. His dark, aquamarine eyes took in everything, before landing on Augus, looking him up and down.

‘Stertes,’ the fae announced, and then strode into the house itself without an invitation. Augus narrowed his eyes and frowned.

‘While I appreciate that you came all this way, I don’t usually have much to do with fae of your kind,’ Augus said, and Stertes lifted an arm in acknowledgement, and then dropped it as he looked around Augus’ main living area. It was a huge, open living space with a kitchen off to the left, and a large, well-furnished lounge to the right. He turned back to Augus and something of a smile played around his full lips.

‘You haven’t heard of me?’ Stertes said.

‘You can imagine I am not one to much keep up with news from the sea.’

‘Yes, well,’ Stertes said, and Augus wondered what he wanted. He’d had clients enter with this sort of bearing before, ones who wanted to be dominated, but couldn’t quite let go of whatever facade they had to maintain during the every day. But something about Stertes rubbed him the wrong way; likely because the very scent of him clawed at the inside of his nose.

‘Would you take on an ocean client?’ Stertes said.

Augus walked up to him, wondered what could be done. If he kept his distance, used tools instead of his own body...

Maybe.

Stertes turned to him, a smile spread slowly across his face.

‘I do a little of this too, you see. I heard tell of you, your reputation is spreading wide. This is not the normal career choice for a waterhorse, is it? You’re the only one contracting these services out for hire. So. I was curious.’

Augus couldn’t help but feel a little flattered that his reputation was spreading into sea-fae circles. That was unexpected. He didn’t track the word of mouth that followed what he did, only knew that he was starting to gain a reputation. He’d had some unusual clients turn up.

And Stertes wasn’t unattractive. Perhaps they could work something out. He did get a particular enjoyment from dominating those who were typically dominant in nature.

‘Perhaps you would like to come into my rooms? We could discuss this further?’ Augus said, and Stertes looked down from where he’d been gazing at the ceiling.

‘A compatibility test might be best, I think. Do you still do it the old way?’

The old way was the freshwater fae presenting their wrist, and the seawater fae holding their palm against it for a length of time. Sometimes the sting was hardly noticeable, but sometimes it was a flash of immediate pain. The best way to test was skin to skin contact.

Augus unbuttoned the cuff at his sleeve and presented his wrist idly, looking Stertes over, wondering what it might be like to break him down. Augus couldn’t get a clear read on him.

Stertes walked over and then slipped his fingers around Augus’ wrist, tightening his grasp slowly.

Augus felt the sting of the salt almost immediately. Either Stertes was sweating, or he shed water naturally like many water fae did; Augus included. Stertes was watching him closely, the lids of his eyes hanging low, not completely masking the dark blue stare beneath it.

Augus realised after thirty seconds had passed, that even though he liked a challenge, he didn’t think this was going to be one he wanted to take.

‘I don’t think this is a good idea,’ Augus said, and Stertes flexed his fingers slightly.

‘On the contrary,’ he said, smiling.

Augus’ animal instincts kicked in immediately, his eyes widening as Stertes dug his fingers into the bones of Augus’ wrist. Augus pulled backwards, lashing out with his claws, managing to sink them into Stertes’ jaw and neck, even as he attempted to duck out of reach.

Kelp flew out of Stertes’ wrist and coiled tight and thick around Augus’ wrist. He stepped smartly backwards and yanked Augus with him, forcing him to stagger forwards. The kelp was a brand of fire across his skin, and Augus scratched at it quickly, hissing frustration at himself and Stertes both. He struck out again, aiming to deepen the wounds he’d already created, landing another good scratch before Stertes grabbed his free hand in a cruel grip and wrestled him to the ground, forcing his arm behind his back.

Augus growled thickly, and then his breath caught in his throat when both of his wrists were cinched tightly behind him with a thick layer of kelp. His body shuddered as he forced a premature change to horse-form, even though his entire body chafed at the idea of shifting in front of a threat _._

But the change didn’t come, and Augus’ eyes snapped open. He couldn’t call his horse-form to himself.

‘What did you do?’ Augus said hoarsely, and Stertes patted the top of his head in a proprietary manner.

‘It is a shame you haven’t heard of me, you might not have let me into your house otherwise. I’m from the House of Atros, and one of my core powers is preventing others from shifting into their trueforms. Now, this doesn’t have to be hard for you, Augus. You could help me, and this will be over with quickly.’

‘I’m a _freshwater fae,’_ Augus said, throwing his body to the side and kicking out with his back legs, landing several hard kicks before Stertes snarled and drove down with a fist, punching him hard in the side. Augus grunted and jerked around the pain.

‘I _know,’_ Stertes said, grabbing a fistful of Augus’ hair and pulling on it, lifting Augus’ head off the ground and getting close enough that all Augus could smell was salt. ‘That’s the point _.’_

Augus tugged repeatedly at the kelp, his wrists aching already. The seaweed was tight and unforgiving, no purchase available. He tried to shift again, and Stertes only laughed as he walked out of the room, looking for something.

‘I’m quite proud of my reputation,’ Stertes called behind him as he disappeared into another room, down the corridor, out of sight. ‘The House of Atros is one that doesn’t permit slights like yours.’

‘I haven’t even heard of you!’ Augus shouted, quickly pushing himself towards the stand of his coffee table and manoeuvring himself so that he could start raking off the kelp around his wrists. It was too much salt already. If Stertes did what he was planning, Augus...

...Didn’t want to think about that.

‘No, that’s true I suppose,’ Stertes said, returning with a vial of lubricant clutched in his palm. ‘But I’ve heard of _you._ Do you know how a reputation must spread for me to hear about you in the oceans? You had to expect that this would happen. Some of us are quite territorial, I’m afraid. You should understand that, being what you are.’

‘You will rue the day you did this,’ Augus snapped, impatient, as Stertes simply hooked his fingers into the kelp at Augus’ wrists and dragged him away from the coffee table. Augus kicked out again, and Stertes pinned down one of his legs. Augus bucked when kelp slid around his ankle and anchored him to the leg of his own couch. It was a well-made couch, sturdy and heavy. Augus growled, exasperated.

_Of all the times for my furniture to do this to me, damn it._

‘So,’ Stertes said, pressing one hand to the shape of Augus’ ass through his pants, the other pulling hard on his hair. ‘This is a courtesy. It will be over quickly.’

‘I _swear,’_ Augus breathed, ‘I will find your House of Atros and-’

‘We live in the sea,’ Stertes said, amused. ‘I can come to you, but you cannot come to me, but this? This is quaint. Please, continue.’

Augus couldn’t even call his waterhorse strength to drag the couch, something he would normally be able to do. Stertes was right, he didn’t just block Augus’ ability to shift, he had him locked fully in his most vulnerable form. Augus shoulders and wrists were starting to ache from struggling against the kelp, his own hands already scratched from claws accidentally snagging on his skin as he twisted his hands.

Stertes’ hand curved with intention towards the cleft in Augus’ ass, and Augus swallowed, felt a glimmer of true panic rise up within him, bubbles catching and popping all the way up to his throat.

‘Wait,’ Augus said, and Stertes reached up and had to tug hard, several times, to get the tight waist of his pants down and off without undoing them first. Augus wondered, somewhat hysterically, what his brother was doing.

_Hungover, probably. Hungry, perhaps. Not here, obviously._

‘Wait,’ Augus said again, and Stertes uncapped the vial of lubricant. Augus used his strength to flip himself over onto his back, but Stertes caught him and pushed him forwards again, straddling his hips. He was still wearing all of his clothing. Still wearing his boots. Augus had broken people like that. Augus had done that before.

A bubble popped in the back of Augus’ throat and came out as laughter.

‘You _base_ creature,’ Augus said, ‘Do you simply go around to freshwater fae as you please? Does this really have anything to do with how I have chosen to live my life? Or is it simply that you like knowing how much pain you’re causing?’

Stertes shifted where he was straddling Augus, moved down. Augus ground his teeth together. His teeth weren’t even sharper. He couldn’t even manage that much. His horse-form had never felt so far away.

‘You don’t do what I do,’ Augus said, staring at the entrance to his foyer, smelling sea salt on everything. His eyes watered with it. ‘We are not cut from the same cloth.’

‘Of course not,’ Stertes said, spreading Augus’ ass cheeks, ‘How could we be cut from the same cloth when you are lying like this beneath me, and I have so clearly triumphed? I don’t do what you do. I don’t _lose.’_

Augus opened his mouth to retort and then slammed it shut again when Stertes pressed a finger inside. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of making a noise, but his breath huffed hard out of his nostrils when the sting began, even through the lubricant. Stertes pushed deep, a hand on Augus’ lower back holding him down. Augus squeezed his eyes shut. He could feel himself tighten against the intrusion, against the promise of more pain. Stertes’ finger would sweat in that heat, and it would mean more _salt._

‘Perhaps we would work something out,’ Augus managed, and Stertes chuckled, fucking his finger back and forth slowly.

‘There is no other thing I want, except this. Perhaps you’ve noticed I’m actually here for this, and this only? So...what else would I want?’

Stertes pressed back with two fingers, and Augus choked off a sound at the stretch, at the fact that he already felt raw. Augus reminded himself that he would heal. He _would_ heal. But the salt inside him was an anathema, it made him feel like something had gone horrifically wrong. And when Stertes started stretching out his entrance, Augus’ voice caught up in a broken noise that made the sea-fae lean hungrily over him.

‘You are, of course, welcome to tell me how much it hurts you.’

Two fingers became three, and Augus had discarded at least forty taunts that, one after another, seemed increasingly pathetic in a situation like this. He kept his mouth closed around words of malice that threatened to spill, but he couldn’t stop the sounds that occasionally forced their way out of him.

_I suppose I should be glad for the lubricant, at least._

Augus exhaled a brief, aborted chuckle and pressed his forehead into his floorboards. He could smell lacquer, wood, something that _wasn’t_ salt. He inhaled deeply, only to have the act cut off with a sudden, hard thrust of Stertes’ hand. Fingers splayed deep, and Augus’ wrists chafed at the kelp, raw, on fire.

‘This just...confirms something I’ve always known,’ Augus said, wishing that Stertes would just push into him already and get it over and done with.

‘Hm? What’s that?’ Stertes said, and Augus cracked a grin at his own empty foyer.

‘Freshwater fae do it better.’

Stertes paused, and then he brutally stretched his fingers out at Augus’ entrance. Augus choked on the pain of it.

_Still, worth it._

The salt was awful, and Augus couldn’t tell if there was more of it, or if it was just that friction and prolonged exposure was making things worse. He was furious at Stertes, at himself. He knew his instincts had been uneasy from the beginning, but he’d not listened. He was angry that he couldn’t call his waterhorse form to himself. He would only need to do it _once._ Every time he pulled for that source of power, it was simply like it wasn’t there. It was alarming, to be unable to feel his other self. He reached deeper, still couldn’t find it, a thread of panic twisted like rope inside of him.

He should at least be able to _feel_ his horse-form, shouldn’t he?

Augus reached deeper. He couldn’t even feel it as a source of power caged away.

‘Stop that,’ Stertes said, fingerfucking him briskly with three fingers, working him open. Augus reached again, and Stertes lifted his hand from Augus’ back and twisted his hair around his fingers. ‘I said _stop.’_

‘Go fuck yourself on Poseidon’s trident,’ Augus rasped, and reached for his horse-form again, realising that something about the act was disturbing Stertes.

Stertes released Augus’ hair, flicking it off his fingers as though it was dirty. He withdrew his fingers and Augus heard the unmistakeable sound of pants being opened, of someone drawing themselves out. Augus desperately reached for his waterhorse-form, throwing his mind into the depths of himself, and _there_ , right at the bottom, he found it. He _reached,_ his mind splitting with pain as he forced his concentration away from the present.

If he could _just-_

‘You are persistent,’ Stertes said, irritated, and then Augus felt his ass cheeks being spread once more, and fear forced him back to the present. He struggled, but the kelp was too strong, the position too awkward.

When Stertes thrust into him, it didn’t matter how loose he’d been made, how well-prepared; the precome on the tip of Stertes cock alone was a sear of pain against his insides. Augus cried out, tears coming to his eyes. It wasn’t even that Stertes was particularly large, or brutal. The salt alone...

‘Try shifting now,’ Stertes taunted, fucking himself into Augus with quick, firm thrusts that forced harsh exhales from Augus’ mouth. Augus could smell salt on everything now. There was no lacquer left on the wood for his nose to find, nothing. His whole body was too attuned to the salt, wanted only to repel the poison, his nerves screaming at him to _do_ something about it.

 _Impatient body,_ Augus thought, before his thoughts scattered.

Stertes grasped his hips and started moving; long strokes that aggravated his insides and forced whimpers from the back of his throat. He hissed, tried to get his voice under control, but he couldn’t. He had thought that he wanted this over and done with, but he knew, he knew that Stertes’ come would feel like liquid fire, and he found himself both hoping and dreading the moment it would be over.

Augus couldn’t force his mind away from the pain like he usually could. He closed his eyes and craved his empty home, his empty, quiet home. He just wanted the part where it would be over, and he could find a semblance of inner order again.

Stertes, thankfully, did not take much longer. But as his thrusts picked up pace, as his hips began to tremble and his fingers dug bruises into Augus’ hips, Augus felt a corresponding spiral of fear thread a line of tension down his spine. He knew it would hurt. He knew it would hurt and he couldn’t drive his mind away from it.

Stertes’ hips snapped forwards, he pressed deep, and Augus tensed hard in spite of himself. He felt the motion of Stertes’ cock in spasm, and then the heat of his come. For the first couple of seconds it felt almost normal, but then pain ricocheted through him and left him breathless, lungs spasming. It was fire, and Augus’ inhaled quickly, only to make a thin, high noise.

‘You are, for some reason, particularly sensitive,’ Stertes said, voice deeper, thickened with pleasure.

Augus couldn’t marshal words together, there were no sentences he could find. He would pretend, later, that he didn’t sob, lips pressed into his own floorboards, desperate breaths misting up the polish. Of course he was particularly sensitive, he lived a purer life than most other waterhorses. It meant his poison was more powerful, it meant that he was more sensitive to other poisons.

When Stertes withdrew, Augus had hoped that he’d be able to rollover, to muster some clever, catty remarks to throw at him. But there was pain, and he was unexpectedly tired for something that had only lasted a short while.

The kelp unravelled from his ankle, and Augus hissed as cool air hit the chafed, raw marks where he’d been tied down. His wrists remained bound.

Stertes walked away from him into the kitchen. Augus lowered his head to the ground, tears still streaming from his eyes, pain flaring in his abdomen. He needed to get into the lake itself, he needed to rinse the salt off, he didn’t think he could move more than a few feet. He didn’t want to move ever again. He was vaguely aware of his growing melodrama at all that had transpired, but the pain made him too foggy to stop the errant nature of his thoughts.

He felt metal drop onto his back, near his fingers. He knew that it was scissors, or a knife. Could tell, instinctively, that Stertes was giving him a way to free himself from the kelp. Augus didn’t even know if he had coordination left in his fingers anymore, but he’d have to find it.

Stertes crouched in front of his face, blocking his view to the foyer. He felt those ridiculous, patronising pats to the head again, and could only manage a brief hiss.

‘I’ll be candid, shall I? I don’t really see what the fuss is about, with you. But so, I often find that land and freshwater fae are a little like that. You all think you lord over us, but there’s a great deal more ocean than there is land.’

Stertes stood and deliberately smeared a small pool of Augus’ tears with the tip of his boot.

‘You’re pretty enough. I suppose. So.’

He walked towards the foyer.

‘I’ll show myself out, waterhorse. You’ll be able to shift soon enough.’

Augus’ fingers fumbled for the knife, but they wouldn’t listen, his coordination gone. As soon as he was sure Stertes was gone, he let out a cry of sheer frustration, unable to manoeuvre the knife, and losing the grasp of it. He breathed heavily for several seconds, and then forced himself upright to his knees, before managing – with his skewed centre of gravity – to make it upright to his feet. Every shift was another flare of pain inside himself. He could smell salt on everything and he knew it couldn’t be on _everything_ , but still, it was _there._

His legs almost gave way, he knew he couldn’t make it to the lake, couldn’t make it to his shower, couldn’t turn the nozzles to access the water anyway. Augus staggered sideways into his couch, and let himself collapse onto it. His ankle rasped against the fabric, his whole body was sore. Augus turned his face into the material of the couch and closed his eyes. Perhaps if he rested his wrists and hands, his fingers would become strong enough once more that he could get the kelp off. Then, he could decide what to do next. He would have to get the salt off of himself, but his body was demanding he rest.

Augus sighed out a shaky, wet breath and refused to open his eyes.

He felt very small.

He wondered what Ash was doing. But his mind only told him that Ash wasn’t there with him now, and so it didn’t matter anyway.

*

Slipping back into the fae world was something he’d be happy to never do again, if Augus didn’t live in it. It was all territories and boundaries and invisible lines on landmasses that – if he thought about it _really –_ who wanted to live in all that empty space, or amongst all those trees? Ash didn’t even like his own lake. It was a place he went to digest his food. Sometimes he entertained his brother there. Also his DVD collection was pretty good. But wireless underwater, in the fae otherworld? Forget it.

Humans were territorial too, but they gave their spaces walls and rooms and lines and structure. The architecture of the human world was an architecture of territory, and Ash appreciated that. There were almost no invisible boundaries, but fence-lines and curbs and footpaths and roads and retaining walls that were all a sort of language that said, this is yours, that is mine.

Augus always said that if he stayed in the fae world long enough, he’d learn to feel out the territories, but firstly that was bullshit, and secondly Augus was always angling to get him to spend more time in the fae world anyway. That was _also_ bullshit.

But, it didn’t matter, he was going to hang out with Augus today and he’d been looking forward to it for days. He would have gone sooner, except that a new bar opened and he had an invite and it would have been rude to turn it down.

To turn down the free bar tab anyway. Couldn’t have that.

He stepped from Augus’ lake into the foyer, and was shaking water from his head like a dog when his eyes started to water. _Salt._ A lot of it. He made a sound of disgust and stepped forwards, breath coming faster.

A lifetime of knowing when shit was about to hit the fan in pubs and bars had taught him that the shit had already hit the fan. A knife on the floor, no blood on it, thank god, small signs of a struggle, but Augus, sitting there on the couch, knees underneath him and looking like _that._

_Oh, fuck no._

‘What happened? What the fuck happened?’ Ash heard himself say, and then realised that Augus didn’t have his arms in front of him, hadn’t moved them from behind his back.

‘You’re late,’ Augus said, but his voice was hoarse. He laughed, humourless. ‘Go away.’

Ash walked over to him and the smell of salt was stronger. Augus turned his head and watched him, a small frown on his face, skin far, far paler than usual. Ash reached out to see why Augus’ arms were behind his back, and Augus didn’t cooperate but didn’t move away either, when he shifted Augus forwards. He did, however, draw in a strangled, pained breath.

Rage balled into a knot inside of him when he saw the kelp tying Augus’ wrists, binding them together. His growl rumbled through him, a deep, bass tangle of noise before he even knew that he was doing it. He lurched away, picked the knife up off the floor and came back, noticing the way Augus was still watching him, none of the usual spark in his eyes.

‘Who?’ Ash said, voice rising. ‘Who the _fuck_ did this to you?’

‘Stertes. From the House of Atros.’

‘Who the _fuck_ is that?’

Augus laughed again as Ash sawed quickly at the stubborn, drying kelp. He hissed when it touched his fingertips. He wanted to tear something apart when he realised how that must have felt against Augus’ wrists, when he realised what else had likely happened.

‘That’s what I said. Basically,’ Augus said, his voice weak.

He got through the kelp finally and peeled it away, gritting his teeth when he saw the damage. It would have been bad even if the kelp hadn’t been dripping saltwater into Augus’ skin, Augus had _struggled._

‘Shit,’ Ash breathed. ‘Shit. Fucking... _shit.’_

‘Calm down,’ Augus said, easing his arms in front of him and looking at the damage. He flexed his fingers, and they shook tremors back at him.

‘You shut the fuck up,’ Ash said, pressing a trembling hand to his forehead when he realised that Augus’ pants were still down, that there was another deep laceration on his ankle. That was too much salt. Augus needed that off him. Immediately. Then he could go tear the fucking world apart. _Then._

Ash bent down, started to slip an arm underneath Augus’ legs, another behind his back, and Augus stiffened.

‘No,’ he said. ‘Leave it.’

‘You need it off you,’ Ash said, ‘ _Now.’_

‘I don’t want to move,’ Augus said, his voice faintly plaintive.

‘Augus...’

‘I said I don’t want to,’ Augus said, and Ash accidentally cut his tongue on his teeth, they were sharper.

He lifted his hand from Augus’ back and curved his palm around Augus’ head. It was an old, familiar touch, an ancient gesture he’d been making for so long he could no longer remember the first time he’d done it.

Augus inhaled sharply, and then shuddered. His head listed into Ash’s hand.

‘Why are you always late?’ Augus said, and Ash let his fingers trace the line of Augus’ hair, finding the shape of the skull he knew so well.

_Why the fuck indeed. Free bar tab, brother. You know how that gets me._

Ash slid his arm around Augus’ back again, and Augus didn’t tell him not to. Whatever fight he had left was melting out of him, and Ash grit his teeth and lifted him. All his worries were confirmed when Augus made a choked, pained noise at being lifted.

_Stertes. House of Atros. I am going to rip your fucking face off with my bare hands. Maybe after like two weeks of whatever else I feel like doing first. Or a month. Or fifty goddamned fucking years. I don’t like my lake much anyway, I could just keep you down there. No one would look for you there._

The smell of salt became fainter as he walked down the corridor, and it disappeared almost completely when he entered Augus’ bedroom. He kicked the door shut behind him, blocking out the wretched scent of it, and blinked the irritation away from his eyes, wondering how Augus could stand it.

He took Augus directly into his bathroom and didn’t let him go, reaching out and turning on the water. This wouldn’t be the first time he’d carried someone into a bathroom and needed to give them a shower. His first human overdose shocked the hell out of him, but subsequent ODs didn’t, especially in those first few decades when it had taken him a while to scent the specific drugs rolling through a person’s sweat, and learn to avoid what was likely to become a pain in the ass.

But as a result, he was good at holding someone against himself, while turning on a shower, testing the water temperature.

Ash angled Augus directly into the spray as soon as it was lukewarm, and Augus’ mouth opened on a cry as soon as the water hit his wrists. He flinched, but he didn’t move his hands away, knowing that it would eventually help.

‘Can you stand?’ Ash said.

‘ _Please,’_ Augus said in disgust, and then opened his mouth on something cutting. But just as quickly he closed it and shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Lean against me, okay?’ Ash said, lowering him carefully, noting the way Augus’ legs didn’t catch himself properly. Augus leaned his full weight against Ash. He was holding his wrists out to the water, turning them slowly, but his hands were still shaking, and there were claw marks all over his hands where he’d been frantic against the kelp. ‘Is the spray getting your ankle?’

‘Enough,’ Augus said, opening his mouth to the water and gulping it down.

‘I...we need to get you out of these clothes. They reek of salt.’

The question was unspoken. Augus’ wrists were too damaged. Ash would have to do it. Augus nodded without even thinking about it, and held one of his arms aside so that Ash could undo each of the buttons rapidly. The shirt came off with difficulty, Ash trying to ease the sleeves over Augus’ wrists, and Augus losing patience and yanking his wrists through, jaw clenching at the pain he was causing himself.

Getting his pants off was harder. Ash would have asked him to lean forwards, to brace his hands in Ash’s hair, but his wrists weren’t strong enough for that. He kept an awkward arm around Augus’ waist and then bent down himself, pulling them the rest of the way off. He could smell sex, salt, and Augus had started chuckling at him as Ash straightened. He’d started growling again.

‘Stertes,’ Ash said, angling Augus so that his back was receiving most of the spray, front resting against Ash’s chest. ‘House of Atros.’

‘You’re not a seawater fae, you can’t do anything.’

Ash’s smile tightened. Maybe he couldn’t, but humans could. They had submarines and underwater weaponry and their wars were very impressive these days, for creatures that died so quickly and valued their flesh so little. Maybe he could find a Marine...

He’d only need the coordinates, and _yes, fucking yes._

He could go down to one of the harbour pubs, when the Navy docked.

_Augus wouldn’t even need to know. It’d be easy as._

Augus meanwhile was reaching a hand behind himself, shaking with frustration when his shoulder wouldn’t listen to him.

‘What are you trying to do?’ Ash said, and Augus stiffened.

‘If you think my wrists or my ankle are my biggest problem then I despair of you, brother.’

Ash pulled Augus’ forearm gently back to his side.

‘Will you let me?’ Ash said, wincing as he asked. He hadn’t seen his brother naked in some time. He hadn’t been naked with him in a shower, since that time Augus, recently changed back from being a waterhorse, found him so hungover he’d dumped his brother in the shower unceremoniously and yelled at him about pollutants. He’d certainly never done anything like this. Not after something like _that._

‘Just what’s leaking out,’ Augus said, defaulting to crudity, as he so often did when he was uncomfortable. ‘I have...an unguent in my first aid kit that might help, for after. It’s not exactly something I’d ever intended for internal use. But it should be safe enough.’

Ash swallowed hard. Augus wouldn’t be able to apply that himself either. Not in the way that he meant.

He didn’t say anything, only shifted Augus slightly and reached around him, flushing with heat at what he was about to do. It was only when his fingers slipped between Augus’ ass cheeks and caught some of the searing salt on his fingers that he realised how bad it was. He swore colourfully, his embarrassment disappearing.

‘Jesus _fuck,’_ Ash said. ‘That’s caustic as hell.’

‘It’s unpleasant,’ Augus agreed, and his shoulders tightened when Ash’s fingers slipped further. Ash was glad that Augus couldn’t see his eyes, because he was staring at the tiles, wondering what sort of life experience folder to file this under.

‘What the _fuck_ happened?’ Ash snarled, as Augus flinched beneath him without Ash even really being that close to his entrance and still finding his fingertips burning from what was leaking out. Ash held come-stained fingers up to the showerhead to rinse them. His fingers were already reddened. Augus shrugged.

‘Saltwater fae. Said that he didn’t like that my reputation was bigger than his. Personally I think he just likes subduing and fucking freshwater fae.’

Augus said it all steadily, and Ash nodded like it was perfectly normal to visit Augus and find him post-assault, wrists still tied behind his back. The arm he was using to prop Augus up tightened around him, and his fingers stroked Augus’ torso carefully.

‘Hey,’ Ash said quietly. ‘Hey now.’

Ash slipped his fingers between Augus’ ass cheeks one more time, holding him open to the spray, and Augus reached up with one of his weak hands and managed to hook three fingers into his wet shirt.

‘How did that fucker stop you from shifting?’ Ash said, and Augus shook his head.

‘His power prevented it,’ he sounded frustrated even as he said it, and Ash could only imagine how he would have tried. He removed his hand and trailed it up to Augus’ back, pressing him close. Augus was shaking, and he wondered if the shock of the day was catching up with him.

‘Hey,’ Ash whispered, closing his eyes when Augus pressed his face into his chest, when his fingers tightened in the fabric of his shirt. ‘Hard day at the office, huh?’

Augus didn’t even laugh in that derisive way he did when he didn’t find something remotely funny, but still thought it deserved a response. It was these hiccups in Augus’ normal ways of responding to things that ratcheted up Ash’s concern, and he wrapped both of his arms around Augus and pressed his head into his shoulder.

‘Unless you think you can hug the salt out of me, I’d like to try that ointment,’ Augus huffed eventually, and Ash rolled his eyes. It was obvious from the shaky inhale, the words themselves, that Augus had been crying. But whatever, he could play along.

‘Yeah, the one not intended for internal usage. I’m pretty sure I’ve heard that before,’ Ash said. He turned off the shower, and then leaned Augus carefully against the tiles. Augus hissed at the cold, but didn’t attempt standing on his own, and Ash was already back with a fluffy, dark green towel when he noticed a bruise blossoming on Augus’ ribs.

Maybe he could find a fae that ate saltwater fae. And pay them. A lot.

Augus reached out for the towel, and Ash wrapped it around him, reaching up and even rubbing it into his hair. It was an affectionate gesture. The towel would never dry his hair properly, but waterhorses appreciated the feeling of being dry, of being warm. He gently pressed the corner of the towel onto Augus’ wrists, blotting off the water.

‘How’s the salt?’ Ash said, and Augus shook his head, wrinkled his nose.

‘I can still smell it everywhere,’ he said, and Ash’s eyes narrowed.

He couldn’t really smell the salt at all, now. He could only smell it faintly on Augus, not clinging as it had been before. And it wasn’t at all like it had been out in the main living area.

‘It smells bad?’ Ash said, and Augus nodded, holding the towel to himself with fingers that seemed more responsive now that his shoulders had had some time to loosen up.

‘It’s everywhere,’ Augus repeated, and Ash started to pick him up, when Augus leaned away from the tiles and squinted in concentration. ‘I can do it.’

‘Come on then,’ Ash said, and ghosted him closely as Augus walked, a little unsteady, to his own bed. He placed his hands down on the bed to crawl onto it, and abruptly jerked his damaged wrists up again. He gave his bed a frustrated look, like he wanted to kick it. Ash resisted smiling. _That_ was very typical of Augus.

‘Here,’ Ash said. ‘Shut up and let me help you, and we can pretend this never happened, okay?’

‘I’m ahead of you there, brother,’ Augus said quietly, as Ash got onto the bed first and lifted Augus onto it. ‘I’m pretending this isn’t happening right now.’

‘At least you’re getting a head start,’ Ash said, settling Augus down on his belly and pulling the towel over his ass, giving him what sense of modesty he could. ‘Are you cold?’

‘There’s blankets folded in the cupboard,’ Augus said, which wasn’t exactly an answer, but Ash didn’t care.

He got up, found an old one that he recognised from hangovers of his own. It was the one that Augus always used when Ash came over feeling wretched. He liked that blanket. It reminded him of good things. He unfolded it with a flourish and then lay it over Augus with a single motion. Augus didn’t shift. His head was facing out, his eyes closed. He still looked pale, though less pale than before.

He looked, Ash realised with a start, like someone who’d been taken advantage of. He never thought of his brother as vulnerable to attack, _ever._ Even though Augus was the slighter of the two of them, even though Augus wasn’t street smart in the same way that Ash was, and even though he was fit due to foraging and swimming, but not concertedly fit like Ash was. It was the first time that Ash realised that Augus could be overpowered, and...hurt. It was disconcerting. He didn’t like it.

‘What does this ointment look like?’ Ash said, and Augus pursed his lips.

‘It’s in a purple glass jar with a black screw top. Smells like cucumber, I think.’

‘Got it,’ Ash said, and let himself out of Augus’ room.

The smell of salt was stronger now that he’d been away from it for so long, and as he got into the living room itself, the unmistakeable scent of salt and sex mingled together.

Ash picked up the side table and smashed it into the wall before he’d known he was doing it.

‘Sorry!’ he called, staring at the splinters of wood. ‘I’ll fix it!’

‘You had better!’ Augus called back, and Ash carefully kicked the shards of wood into a small pile, and walked into the larder. He took down the first aid kit and took it out to the table, opening it and rifling through it, hardly recognising what he saw. The smell of salt was all around him, prickling at his eyes, and he briefly, suddenly imagined some strange, saltwater fae rutting into his brother and the glass jar of whatever he was holding cracked in his hand, only holding together because of the paste inside of it. He took a deep, deep breath and blew it out.

 _Lose your shit later, when you can find the Navy...maybe like, the entire fucking Navy, and tell them the Taliban live right where those fuckers live, and then I’ll get it played live on some widescreen television and get them to take that stupid asshole hostage and_ then...

Ash grinned as he kept looking through the first aid kit. It was the kind of grin that he wore right before smashing down an opponent, and it felt nothing like good humour and everything like a promise he intended to keep.

But then his fingers tripped on a dark violet glass jar with a screw top lid and his smile melted away, he remembered what he was supposed to be doing, remembered that Augus was in his room, in pain, waiting for something that might not even work.

‘Jesus fucking _goddamn_ it,’ Ash muttered, and walked back, unscrewing the lid and smelling cucumber. Augus’ memory for this sort of thing never failed to impress him.

He walked back into Augus’ room, closed the door behind him. Augus hadn’t even moved. His chest was rising and falling steadily, breathing likely forced to an even cadence. He got back on the bed, and the breathing became unsteady again. Ash figured he knew how Augus felt, a little. It wasn’t every day that one found themselves in a position of potentially sticking a finger up their brother’s ass.

‘Should we try this on your wrists first?’ Ash said, and Augus nodded.

‘I should think yes.’

Ash opened the lid and took some of the pale cream onto his finger. It automatically soothed the space where his fingers still felt burnt from helping Augus in the shower, and that shocked him. He hadn’t expected it to work so fast.

He shifted the blanket with his other hand and reached down and took Augus’ wrist, carefully applying the cream. He didn’t seem to need much, and Augus had already taken a deep breath and sighed it out in relief. He carefully paid attention to Augus’ other wrist, before moving down to his ankle, noticing that even there, the signs of a struggle were obvious. His breathing became shaky, imagining Augus like that, and he took his time.

_Also probably taking my time because what’s after the ankle, Ash? Oh you know, nothing really, nothing much. Nothing like- Jesus I don’t think I can do it._

But the cream obviously helped, and he didn’t think there was anything in it bad for internal use and...

‘Okay,’ Ash said to himself. ‘Alright then.’

He pulled the blanket aside more, and then lifted the towel up, exposing what felt like miles and miles of skin.

‘Maybe I should just do this part later,’ Augus said, sounding uncertain, and Ash looked up from where he was already smoothing the cream onto his finger. It was hearing that, imagining Augus waiting on his own for his hands and wrists to be stronger, knowing how much he’d be hurt in the process...

No, he couldn’t stand that. He could do this.

‘I don’t think so,’ Ash said, and placed a hand against Augus’ lower back. ‘Unless that’s what you want?’

‘I didn’t want _any_ of this,’ Augus hissed, and then unclenched his fist, fingers shifting painfully. ‘No, I...I don’t want to wait.’

‘Yeah,’ Ash said, ‘so this’ll just be one of those things we never talk about again, yeah?’

‘No, _do_ let’s bring this up at least once a fucking year,’ Augus snapped, and Ash could feel the discomfort practically rippling off him in waves.

‘Hey,’ Ash said, drawing out the word, making it soft. ‘You need me to stop, tell me to stop, okay?’

Augus didn’t say anything at all, simply shifted his legs, making the access easier. Ash decided that if he spent too long _thinking_ about it – and thinking was never really his strong point – then he’d drive himself up the fucking wall. Instead, he reached forwards and spread Augus’ ass cheeks with his palms, and then swore.

He didn’t even hesitate, before laying the first stripe of cream down. The skin around Augus’ entrance was swollen and flushed red with irritation. At the first stripe of cream, Augus made a small, helpless noise and shifted again.

‘Helping,’ Augus said on an exhale. ‘It’s helping.’

‘I should fucking hope so,’ Ash muttered, wondering how many organs a seawater fae needed to function before they finally just...stopped functioning.

He could probably find out.

He could probably do that.

Ash took up more of the cream on his fingers and then hesitated, because this was...intimate. He couldn’t even pretend to be detached about it. Augus made a small, uncertain sound, knowing exactly what was coming, and Ash closed his eyes and bit the inside of his lip.

‘If it helps though,’ Ash said, answering an unasked question.

‘The fact that you’re taking about eight hours between _every_ step is _not_ helping,’ Augus muttered, and Ash grimaced.

_Right then._

Ash pressed his finger to Augus’ entrance and realised he’d been expecting resistance, but what had happened earlier had loosened him, and Ash’s finger slipped in. Ash was almost certain that all the air stilled in his lungs as he sank his finger an inch into his brother, feeling an aggravated, awful heat. The cream cooled it immediately, and Augus made a sound of relief, and Ash thought perhaps he was going to go to hell.

Because he liked this. He... _liked_ it.

_No, this isn’t happening. I’m having one of those weird pizza dreams again._

He resisted the urge to ask Augus if he wanted Ash to push his finger deeper, because firstly – he had to, if he wanted to distribute the cream, and secondly, that would push things into a far different dimension that he was sure he wasn’t ready for.

He withdrew his finger slowly and applied a copious helping of the cream. Augus could make more, if he really needed it. Hopefully he would never need it again, and certainly not for something like this.

Ash pushed his finger in again, and it felt just as much of a strange and intimate thing as the first time. It crawled up his back and reminded him of countless nights in countless beds except that this was _Augus,_ and he was supposed to be concentrating.

He pushed deeper, telling himself that the cream would help and that it was fine and that it wasn’t at all like Augus’ ass was sucking his finger deeper. And it was obvious, anyway, that Augus had been, was still in, a fairly significant amount of pain. This wasn’t at all like those pizza dreams he’d had. His subconscious was much kinder to him in those scenarios.

Sort of.

Augus made a broken noise when Ash pushed all the way up to his knuckle, and Ash wished there was a brick wall right next to his head, so he could bang his forehead into it repeatedly.

He paused, didn’t do anything at all. He felt heat around him. He felt salt stinging his fingers for long enough that he knew he’d need more cream, if Augus would let him. He felt his cock twitch, and wondered if Augus would know what was going on if Ash just started laughing loudly, and hysterically. Probably.

‘Ash,’ Augus said softly, hesitantly. ‘Ash...I think, it’s helping. Is there, I know this is a problem, but is there more?’

 _Remember Ash, fae don’t believe in hell, so you couldn’t possibly go_ there.

Ash slipped his finger out slowly and scooped up more of the cream with two fingers, realising that he’d be able to distribute a lot more, if he pushed back in with two. And Augus felt stretched enough that maybe he could.

‘Two fingers this time,’ Ash warned, and Augus said nothing. His legs shifted restlessly, and he nodded.

Ash pushed two fingertips in, felt more of a tightness this time, and closed his eyes and thought about how he wasn’t pushing his fingers into his brother.

_Not helpful, brain. Thanks a fucking lot._

He pushed deeper, expecting Augus to protest, expecting a lot of things. He did not expect Augus to simply go on breathing, unsteady, and let Ash push in so deep that there was nowhere else to go. His cock had risen to half-hardness, and Ash grit his teeth.

_Don’t you fucking dare._

It was the moment when Ash spread his fingers slightly, reflexively, and Augus made a sound that wasn’t pain, that Ash knew he was in trouble. Because he could see it now. So clearly. Could see stretching Augus’ legs and could see what it would be like to seek out his prostate and press just so and watch him come apart and he could _see_ pushing into him and watching him writhe against the mattress undone and black hair spilling all over, something Ash could pull or stroke or twist around his fingers or caress. And Ash was hard and his gut ached already because restraint had never been one of his strong suits, not _ever,_ and this was possibly the worst time, the _worst time,_ for his stupid subconscious to wave a cheery hand and remind him that actually, this wasn’t the first time he’d thought of his brother like this.

_I will kill you dead, subconscious. And then I will kill that asshole seawater fae._

Ash shifted his fingers very slowly, under the guise that it was probably important to spread the cream as best as possible. He absolutely did not seek out Augus’ prostate and he did _not_ let his fingertips ghost against it.

But Augus definitely moaned.

Augus froze, his breath shuddered to a stop in his lungs, and Ash thought he knew what that felt like too. Suddenly he realised that he wasn’t alone in this. That it wasn’t just him on some merry road to whatever hell they didn’t actually believe in. He shifted his fingers again, slightly, and Augus’ fingers clenched into the bed. He shifted his head. Ash lifted up so he could see Augus’ expression. He slid his fingers back and forth, once, and Augus’ mouth went slack, dropped open.

Two minutes went by, and it was painfully obvious to Ash that this was nothing like medical care and everything like him slowly fingering his brother while watching him try to catch his breath. There was a slight twist to Augus’ forehead which was delectable, and Ash found himself wanting to lick it, he wanted to place his mouth on Augus so badly – any part – that his mouth was practically salivating.

‘So,’ Ash said, breaking the spell. Augus’ eyes flew open, a surprised green. ‘So is this helping?’

Ash ‘accidentally’ brushed over Augus’ prostate again, and Augus blinked rapidly, a confusion there which Ash didn’t – absolutely didn’t – find attractive.

And certainly wouldn’t jerk off to at a later date.

‘Is it?’ Ash said, voice deeper, and Augus shuddered beneath him.

‘I think...’ Augus said, but then he didn’t seem to know how to finish his sentence, and he closed his mouth again. Ash shifted his fingers slightly, splayed them out inside of Augus, couldn’t even feel the sting of salt against his own fingers anymore. He made a snap decision, there was a way that this would work out for the both of them, and they’d just never talk about it ever again. Never ever again.

‘I just...want to help you, brother. You could let me do that. You know?’

There. There was no way that Augus would misinterpret the innuendo in that. And now Augus had an out. He could simply say that he felt fine, that there was enough cream inside of him now, that actually the fingerfucking was great and all but he really needed a long nap. _Something._

_Please fucking take the out, brother. Or so help me I am going to bury myself so deep inside of you you’re going to be fucking feeling me forever._

Ash realised his heart was hammering in his chest.

Augus opened his eyes, licked his lips slowly. He took several shallow breaths.

‘You could...keep helping,’ Augus said, and Ash stared at him because he was hallucinating or had misheard or had forgotten the English language or...

_You could keep helping._

A deeper, hungrier predatory instinct was rising inside of him. He wanted to _take._

_You said it, brother. Not me._

His fingers moved smoothly and he pressed up firmly on Augus’ prostate, body surging over Augus’ in time with his long shudder of surprise and lust. He wasn’t even inside him yet, not really, and he felt like he knew how to ride him, felt like – in a way – he’d been doing it for so long already. The groan that had been shaken loose from Augus’ body was not at all satisfying. It was a prelude. It was an entree. There was more, behind that, and he was going to find it.

He braced his arm alongside Augus’, trapping him in the part of the blanket that still covered his other arm. He dropped his head down so that his hair tangled with Augus’, and began moving his fingers back and forth with a sureness that had nothing to do now, nothing at all, with treatment, and everything to do with being able to rise and fall with every gasp that Augus made as Ash withdrew his fingers, every sweet exhale as he pushed back in. He moved his forehead over Augus’ head until finally he felt those breaths on his skin.

 _‘Augus,’_ Ash crooned, and Augus moaned in response. Ash couldn’t believe that he was saying his brother’s name in this context, couldn’t believe that Augus was not only not stopping him, but shifting his own head against Ash’s, seeking. Ash hooked his fingers in deep, paused, as Augus’ lips found his. He licked at them hungrily and Augus opened his mouth, tongue meeting Ash’s halfway, a small, shattered sound crawling out of his throat and cutting off when Ash sealed his mouth against his and sucked his tongue inside. Augus shuddered when Ash started moving his fingers inside Augus, stroking back and forth. He was glad when he couldn’t feel the burn of salt against his fingers. The cream must have neutralised it, somehow.

Augus drew back, panting against him, and Ash closed his eyes because he wanted everything, but Augus was injured and fucking was probably out of the question, he owed his brother restraint, he owed him a great deal.

‘Hey,’ Ash said, ‘you okay?’

 _‘Ash,’_ Augus said in response, trying to get free of the blanket and failing. Ash shifted his arm against him, making it harder for Augus to untangle himself. He was painfully hard in his jeans, but watching Augus shift restlessly was worth it. He withdrew his fingers and Augus made a sound of protest that shook with his exhale. Ash pushed back in, slowly, with three and Augus mouth opened on a silent cry.

‘This okay?’ Ash said again, his voice thicker now.

Augus didn’t respond for several moments, catching his breath as Ash pushed deeper. But then Augus nodded his head, a quick affirmation that made Ash groan softly in response.

He didn’t know _how_ it was okay, but he wasn’t about to question his luck on that.

His jeans were getting impossible though. He withdrew his fingers slowly, pressing his mouth down to the curve of Augus’ ass and licked as he unsnapped the button of his fly and drew down the zip. The relief was automatic, and Ash tugged down his jeans and boxers with the fingers not covered in cream. Beneath him, Augus tensed, and Ash pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses to the curve of his ass.

‘Not going to fuck you,’ Ash said, ‘I know you’re still injured. Just making things a bit easier down this end.

‘It’s not...a fine wine,’ Augus said, losing his way through the sentence as Ash pressed three fingers back into him. ‘Doesn’t...need to breathe.’

Ash laughed under his breath, bowed over Augus, dragged his tongue from the top of Augus’ ass crack and down, Augus shaking beneath him, and then tasted a load of chemical astringency for his trouble. He lifted up and licked the taste out of his mouth.

‘Doesn’t taste like fucking cucumber,’ Ash complained, and realised he’d have to do that again later, when he could taste Augus properly.

If there was going to be later.

There was probably never going to be a later.

Ash ground his teeth together, his mind was jumping ahead to later and tomorrow and next week, imagining a future he almost never did with others. This was bad. This was more than his cock just being interested, it was not knowing how he was going to look at Augus again in the future and not wonder how Augus would react if Ash could just stick his tongue inside him and _taste_ and find out the range of sounds he could pull out of his throat.

Besides, if he could get Augus to come, feeling him clench and flutter around his fingers, that...wouldn’t that be enough?

_You spoiled me, brother. I feel greedy._

He dropped his mouth back to Augus’ skin, biting and licking a pathway to Augus’ hip as he commanded his attention with the rhythm of his fingers. With his other hand, he yanked the blanket off, wanting to see the way his back trembled, the way his muscles shifted beneath his skin, how his hair stuck to his shoulders, creating long, dark lines that broke up unmarred flesh.

He sunk his teeth down, sucked hard, and Augus made a broken sound above him, hips shifting in small increments. Ash paid attention, couldn’t not, and realised that Augus was moving against the bed. Not much, but he was starting to. Ash gathered every one of Augus’ responses up in his body and they sung straight through him, a giddy warmth that made him want to stay on this bed, in this room, for an appalling amount of time.

‘Meet me,’ Ash whispered, nudging Augus’ hip with face, licking broadly at the mark he’d sucked onto his skin. ‘Meet me, lift up.’

Augus raised his hips slowly, and Ash pushed fingers down to meet him, and Augus cried out like the only thing they’d been doing all day was fuck. He wanted to wipe any memory that Augus had of that previous asshole clear out of his mind, and – shocked at his own possessiveness – he wanted to stake a claim that would make anyone else think twice before making moves on his brother. That wasn’t like him. His normal attitude was share and share alike. Pleasure belonged to everyone. Some Utopian ridiculousness that almost no one shared with him.

_Yeah, whatever, I’ll deal with that later._

He was sucking a third mark into his brother’s skin, replacing Augus’ natural taste with the flavour of his own saliva, when the quality of Augus’ vocalisations changed, pitched higher, caught more often on his breath, snagged in the back of his throat.

‘More,’ Augus whispered, lifting his hips up, insistent.

Ash’s eyes snapped open, his mouth forgot what it was doing.

_Gonna wake up from this pizza-dream any minute now._

‘More?’ Ash said, checking that Augus hadn’t accidentally said...something else.

‘More,’ Augus said, voice high and pleading and not even a command, but a word laced with hope. He already had three fingers in his brother, he was pretty sure Augus didn’t mean ‘go to four.’

Which meant...

Ash’s cock jumped and he looked up, looked for the expression on Augus’ face. He’d stopped moving his fingers, but Augus was still moving back into them, still following the rhythm Ash had set. He undulated his hips with nothing like the precision he probably showed his clients. It was raw, honest, and Ash was pretty sure that if he’d known these things about his brother earlier, this would have started a long time ago.

‘Are you sure?’ Ash said, trying not to think about what it might be like to sink into his brother and _goddamnit I said don’t think about it._

‘Of this? No,’ Augus said, voice shaky, his hips stilling. His eyes opened and he looked down, seeking out Ash’s face and lifting his eyebrows as if to say that he had no idea what was happening. But as he looked into Ash’s eyes, he shook his head, helpless. His hips moved again.

‘Of you? _Yes.’_

They looked at each other for a long moment. Shared a gaze that was, at least for Ash, full of Augus just saying that he was sure of him, sure of _him._ Because Ash wasn’t sure of this either, but he was sure of Augus, and if they fucked something up, they’d fucked things up before, and they’d never broken the bond they had with each other. Ash knew they couldn’t.

‘Are you still in much pain?’ Ash said, and Augus looked away quickly, winced.

_That was a fucking yes._

‘I’m sore,’ Augus admitted. ‘But you can’t doubt my...wanting this.’

Ash withdrew his fingers and wiped the excess cream off at Augus’ entrance, rubbing the ring of muscle with an intimate familiarity that made Augus clench at blankets and whine. Ash’s eyes took in those brutalised wrists and his rage tried to creep back again, but he shoved it away. He didn’t want that anywhere near him, not when he fucked his way into Augus for the first time.

He rubbed his slick thumb and forefinger together, and looked down at the pot of cream. He was sure Augus had lubricant, but this was surprisingly good, it hadn’t become sticky or tacky at all. It didn’t hurt his fingers, it wasn’t hurting Augus – it was helping him in fact. He’d used odder things as lube. He scooped up more of the cream from the jar, almost all of it, and slicked himself up, groaning at the heat of his fingers against himself, heat that he’d collected from the inside of Augus’ body. He was going to be _in_ him soon.

He knelt between Augus’ legs, positioned himself and didn’t feel hesitation, didn’t feel anything except a visceral hunger that had sunk its hooks into his chest and made it hard to breathe.

‘I’ll go easy,’ he said roughly, and Augus huffed a breath of laughter.

‘As opposed to...?’

_Pounding you into the goddamned mattress, Jesus._

Ash only laughed, and pressed in, the coolness of the cream meeting the heat inside Augus. Ash stroked long, helpless lines down the centre of Augus’ back as he pushed in, taking his time, savouring, wishing he had this on camera, because Augus was crying out with every short exhale, sounding like pornography, his voice shocked and pained and filled with lust.

_Fucking hell, Augus, how are you still so fucking tight?_

He withdrew and then fucked deeper, repeating that rhythm over and over, until he’d bottomed out and Augus was writhing beneath him, hands finally digging into the sheets even as he lifted his wrists up to stop them making contact with the fabric.

Ash slid the hand he’d been using to stroke Augus’ back, underneath his belly, and then lower, cradling his pelvis, lifting Augus up into him with a rough jerk. And Augus jolted, shouted. Ash stilled, breathless, his mind sluggishly reminding him that he said he’d go easy. But Augus was shivering beneath him like he was _close,_ and his breathing was rough and sweet and Ash’s fingers ached to replace the bruises that were already blossoming on Augus’ hips with his own and his brother would forgive him anything, even this, obviously this, _obviously,_ since Augus was going to come.

Ash spread his legs between Augus’, slid his hands down and splayed them on Augus’ hips before gripping his flesh tight. He withdrew and thrust back in hard, and Augus jerked the bedspread down a foot towards him, disturbing his neatly made blankets, head tossing.

He was done for. It was heat and sensation and Augus’ walls around him, gloving him like he belonged there. It was the pained sounds that Augus was making on every exhale, every sharp thrust that wasn’t at all like going easy, and was everything like wanting Augus to remember this for the rest of his life. And there was warmth in those broken sounds that Augus kept making, want in every single one, in every gasped-for inhale that Ash drove out of him again, keeping him out of breath, making sure that he could focus on nothing else but Ash holding onto him, Ash moving inside of him.

And because he was cocky, and because he couldn’t quite help himself, he let go of Augus’ hip with one of his hands so he could more easily stretch up and get his face close to Augus’, wanting to be close to the sounds he was creating, wanting to swallow them down like air.

‘You sound so good, Augus,’ Ash purred. ‘Just...keep making those noises for me, brother.’

Augus, impossibly, got louder, clenched around him, and Ash grinned. He was so happy, so proud of him, felt full of emotions he couldn’t name or contain, felt heavy with how close he was, there was no _once,_ this wasn’t the _last time,_ no fucking way.

‘That’s it,’ Ash said, sounding soothing, knowing his voice wasn’t soothing Augus at all, knowing that if he played his cards just right... _there,_ Augus hips jerked beneath him, trembled, pressed back up into Ash’s thrusts with a hunger that followed no rhythm at all now. Ash knew it, he always fucking knew when to push. ‘That’s it...that’s _good,_ brother.’

Augus’ eyes flew open, his hips snapped forwards into the mattress and Ash followed the movement, pinning him there, riding out the full body tremors that shook their way out of Augus’ throat as he came, made him claw and pull at the bedspread until it was nothing but a bunched up mess. Ash stroked the line of his torso, the curve of his ass, the back of his thigh, over and over, until Augus went lax, spent, eyes still open in a green, sleepy daze.

Ash liked this part. The part where he could start his rhythm again, where he could listen to the slowed breathing that he was interrupting, where he could roll his hips and chase sensation down, looking for what was left over. He learned that Augus, after coming, still moaned as Ash pushed into him, learned that Augus would still shift his hips sleepily, meeting Ash’s movements.

He lasted only another few minutes. The sight of Augus turning his head and biting at the material beneath him was too much, and he gathered Augus to him, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to his shoulder, scraping teeth against him, coming harder than he could remember coming for a long time.

It was over too quickly. Far too quickly. But Augus was still there against him, not pushing himself away, not yelling or snarling. Ash quickly reached down and pulled Augus’ thigh up and close to his, and then rolled them both over so that he was half on his back and Augus on top, Ash still inside him. Augus’ head fell back beside his, a relaxed, trusting gesture, no tension in it at all. And Ash stroked Augus, finding his way to the familiarity of the affection they’d always shared. He stroked his forehead, his hairline, the lengths of his hair, the sensitive waterweed down to its tips. He smoothed his palm over Augus’ chest, the ridges of his ribs, the hollow beneath where Augus’ muscles jumped beneath his touch.

Augus’ breathing was still settling, and Ash caressed him as it slowed, evened out. He pushed his face into Augus’ hair, licked at his ear, pushed his tongue inside, and Augus shivered, made a sleepy sound that Ash wanted to cradle in his fingers like the fragile thing that it was.

Silence stretched. Ash expected Augus to break it, but he didn’t. And as Ash tasted the place where Augus’ pulse was thumping heavily in his neck, he realised that Augus might not break the silence at all. That, for all of his attitude, he could be surprisingly shy, at the most unexpected times.

Like now.

‘Are you okay?’ Ash said, rubbing Augus’ ribs carefully.

Augus was silent for so long that Ash was almost frightened of his response.

‘Surprisingly,’ Augus said, ‘I am. Though if, at any point, you want to actually take your cock out of me, that would-’

‘Nope,’ Ash said, smiling. ‘Nope, that’s...not a thing that’s going to be happening. Unless you’re, unless you need that. I don’t think you do. I think you like this. I think you like me being inside you.’

Augus groaned, his head went completely lax against Ash’s, his whole body shivered in response to those words. Ash swallowed thickly, turned on, tired.

‘See?’ Ash said, stroking Augus’ side gently, filled with an affection that made him feel like he was floating at the surface of his lake, the summer sun beating down and warming him through.

_See?_

Augus yawned, reached out for the blanket. Ash kept him anchored close, and Augus pulled it around them both, movements clumsy. They’d both had a fondness for blankets for a long, long time. Normally Augus was just tucking Ash in, but this...Augus covering them both, and Ash feeling the slowing thump of his heartbeat move through Augus’ back, into his own chest...

He could get used to this.


End file.
